


It's Complicated

by allMessedup



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Also Many Complications b/c Family Ties, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, An Idiot Who Can't Communicate, And A Girl Who Doesn't Want to Fall in Love with Him, British English, F/M, Slow Burn, demonfire, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-09-06 03:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allMessedup/pseuds/allMessedup
Summary: Because she was so precious, and everything he could ever ask her, and he wanted to keep her around.And he was cold and too arrogant, but she remembers his eyes and the few times he's been vulnerable to her and she wants him to completely open up to her, even if it takes forever.- Mar'i Grayson x Damian Wayne





	1. Chapter 1

She remembers falling for his eyes.

Icy blue, like everyone else in his family who she didn’t know at that time, framed by long lashes and the whitest of whites she’d ever seen on anyone. Icy blue, hiding every bit of emotion and warmth just like his father’s, and she figured that’s what made his mother fall for his father in the first place.

Emotionless, a mystery just waiting to be uncovered every time he looked at her; magnetic with every confident gaze and she fell deeper into his eyes.

But all this was supposed to be was money. She accompanied him to events, parties and charity shows and auctions, and he paid her like a glorified hooker, and she guessed that’s what she was. He dressed her in expensive silks and golds, draped her in diamonds and lace and helped her put on heels that made her taller than him sometimes, with velvet straps and buckles that cost as much as her tuition fees.

She was a glorified hooker, who he took with him and called up whenever there was a party that subtly forced him to bring a plus one, surrounded by media and flashing cameras around the front door. She was a glorified hooker who got sent dresses that cost more than her rent and still needed help putting on and walking around in heels that she shouldn’t be wearing, hanging off his arm because “it wouldn’t do to have you falling and stumbling around me”.

She was a glorified hooker but she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself in the dead of night, knowing she enjoyed it more than she should because it meant, with every call, she got to watch his eyes and learn a bit more about him with the little that he revealed.

**◌**

She hated red on herself.

She loved the red velvet sheets of her parent’s beds; she loved the red of her mum’s hair that burned even at night; she loved the red makeup that her best friend wore every day, the red eyeshadow and blush and lipstick like clockwork; but she hated red on herself.

Still she wore it proudly, the shade the same one of the red cross, as she looped her arm around his, walking up the stairs to the entrance of the Classio hotel. The sides were crowded with members of the press, flashing lights and shouts asking for the two to look at them for a good picture. She kept her head high, smile on her lips like the elegant lady she was to be, one foot in front of the other with every step as she kept with his stride.

“I hate the name of this hotel.” He muttered to her, lowering his head like he was whispering some secret that the media couldn’t know, and she knew that would be the headliner for some gossip magazine tomorrow.

“Your father donated to the building, Damian.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. It’s so pretentious.”

She pursed her lips as they stepped into the hotel, into the welcome reception of the newest charity that Wayne Enterprises had donated to. She read a bit on the foundation, led by a retired doctor who had previously treated children with cancer and wanted to help families cope with the costs of multiple sessions of chemotherapy. She applauded the cause when she first read on it, though Damian didn’t seem all too interested.

“Mr Wayne, Miss Amaryllis! It’s so nice to see you, thank you so much for donating to this cause,” the doctor stepped up to them, hand outreached towards Damian for a handshake that he returned firmly. He gave a practiced smile, loose enough to seem genuine but she could see the stiffness behind it, perfectly diplomatic just like his father’s. The doctor reached his hand out to her, and she gave her best smile with a firm handshake right before he returned his attention back to Damian.

The two men made simple conversation about some new medical technology coming up, made to help detect cancer cells easier during the early stages, and she looked around the room. The decor really was a little pretentious, gold everywhere with a swinging chandelier and floor-to-ceiling windows, the many tables were covered with red velvet and chairs draped with white silks, bouquets with various white flowers sat on every table in glass vases and she wrinkled her nose at how mismatched they all seemed with different flowers at every table. At the front was a stage with a live band playing some classical piece for the couples dancing in front, soft tune that contrasted with the endless chatter among all the other executives.

She never felt like she ever fitted in with these events, even in the long dresses and sky-high heels and heavy makeup. Everything was tailored, he had someone take her measurements every month and a tailor on standby when she changed, hair was professionally styled with perfumed waxes and various sizes of curling barrels and makeup was done with the best of the best that she could only hope to afford in everyday life. It felt foreign, far too different from her everyday sweaters and leggings and sneakers with barely any makeup and a nest for hair.

She felt his hand travel down to her waist, pulling her closer and walking away with her. She kept her hands in front of her, holding onto her clutch that didn’t actually hold anything, and her head high as he led her around to talk to different executives, smiling and laughing as appropriate. She feels like she’s done this too much, been to too many parties and charity events that she already knows what to do and what to say, how to act when some other executive tries to flirt. Her fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giggling at a dry joke an executive across from her cracked. Damian pulled her slightly closer to him, pressing his hip to hers and gave a stiff smile, looking up at him.

He turned them away from the group, towards a long table with finger foods with their hips still pressed together, and she glanced up at him with a raised brow.

“Why are you holding onto me so tight?” She whispered, placing one of her hands on top of his, and it seemed to have snapped him out of whatever it was when he looked down at her.

“That dress is a bit low cut isn’t it?”

She hummed and turned her head from him. The low cut was one of the only things she liked about it, a V-neck that ran down to just below her breasts with straps that got progressively thinner the closer they got to her shoulders. It hugged her body nicely, wrapping around the dip of her waist and loosely frayed out at her hips, ending near her knees. It was fun when she put the dress on, turning and dancing around in it when she was still in his room and feeling his eyes follow her around with every move. He was the one who had chosen the dress out for her, had a tailor adjust everything so it fit just right, he had no right to complain about it.

“You were the one who chose it out.” She smirked up at him and watched his eyes narrow because he knew she was right and he hated when that happened.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” He leaned down so his lips were right next to her ear, hands curling around the material of her dress, “Mar’i.”

She swatted at his shoulders, feeling a blush creep up her face. He knew what that did to her, and she wanted to swat that smirk off his face when he pulled away, hand dropping down to tuck itself into his suit pocket.

“You said you’d never call me that at these events.”

“Nobody heard.”

“_Still_.”

He shrugged, picking up a paper plate and putting a few chocolate eclairs on it with the tongs provided. She cringed at the disposable cutlery, frowning at the disposed plastic forks and knives.

They told each other, promised in the pen-and-paper contract that she signed after reading each and every line, that her actual name would never be used, least some higher-ups or paparazzi caught wind and did some digging. They had agreed on a name, Callista Amaryllis, that she was to be called when they were out together at these sorts of things. She wore reds and pinks and yellows to these events because she would never be caught wearing those colours in day to day life. She wore heavy makeup so that nobody could even guess who she was if they did see her around. She wore sky high heels to appear taller than she already was, matching Damian inch to inch when next to him, so that nobody could guess her actual height.

She took all these measures to make sure nobody would figure out who she was, so that Damian wouldn’t be laughed at if they found out she was a struggling senior university student who was a florist on the side to help pay the rest of her student loans.

A waiter offered her a glass of champagne, and she wished it was a shot of vodka, but she took it with a grateful smile and took a delicate sip like she was taught. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dispose the paper plate and plastic fork into the black trash bin at the end of the table and she wanted to chastise him for being so wasteful, but he didn’t organise the event, and nobody would listen to her anyway even if did somehow gain an audience.

She sighed and frowned, curling her hands around herself. It felt a bit too cold in the ballroom, too foreign again with the mindless chatter and dry banter between medical workers and executives. She missed her bed, with a comforter too warm for summer and a fan too loud for truly peaceful sleep, but with a roommate too hyper for her own good and a neighbour who tended to the dorm’s back gardens with her every evening when she wasn’t called upon for these events.

“What’s wrong?” She felt his hand on his waist again, pulling her in and right next to him, connected hip to hip again. She continued staring at the bin and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously.” He tipped her head to look at him, and she stared into his damned icy blue eyes and saw a layer breaking down, saw a little bit of care and vulnerability in his eyes that she usually couldn’t see, and pursed her lips.

_She couldn’t._

“Plastic,” she muttered under her breath, and he scoffed at her, brows raising in disbelief. She shook her head out of his hand and smiled stiffly, not looking up at him and turning back to the party. She heard him sigh from above her, hands loosening from her waist as he led her around once more to different conversation circles, her playing the perfect socialite, smiling and laughing as appropriate.

The high of the party had ended when he decided it was time for the both of them to leave. He bid their goodbyes to the host, and everyone else who had crossed their paths. His hand had never left her waist after the little private scene at the table, but she was comfortable and warm next to him, so close and almost intimate, so she didn’t fight him on that.

Their limousine was already waiting outside, the walk feeling shorter now that the media and their constantly flashing cameras were gone. It was cooler outside, with the night breeze welcoming and comforting. His hand was still on her waist when he opened the door for her, and only left when she climbed into the limousine and he closed the door for her. He climbed in next to her shortly after, and the driver drove off.

“You know you don’t have to close the door for me all the time.”

She turned her head towards him, barely visible beneath the passing streetlights, but she still caught glimpses of his usual scowl, and that made her scowl as well.

“Well I want to.”

“You don’t _have_ to.”

“I want to. Why are you bothered, do you not want me to be a gentleman to you?”

“That’s not it! It’s just…” She didn’t know where she was going with that sentence, and she had to look away out of discomfort when he turned towards her, rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, crossing his arms and almost challenging her to say whatever to finish that train of thought.

“It’s just?”

“_You don’t have to_. It’d be easier to just get in after me, isn't it?”

“Well, I want to,” and there was a tinge of sincerity in his voice that made her want to melt a bit when she knew she shouldn’t. He was still being arrogant, like he knew everything, but it was in the darker of backgrounds that he let a little of the ‘Damian Wayne, Wayne Enterprises CEO’ mask slip and he was just ‘Damian’.

And even if she couldn’t see how sincere he looked, and how his face must have softened at his tone even if his arms were crossed and he looked completely done with her, she knew he was feeling just a bit more vulnerable than earlier, back at the hotel ballroom.

“_Still_.”

“Don’t fight me on this, I want to do this for you Mar’i.”

She sighed, and turned towards him, and she was right in terms of body posture. His shoulders were still pushed back, high and proud, and his arms were still crossed, but she could see glimpses of the wrinkles loosening compared to when he was scowling and she smiled, placing a hand on his upper arm.

“Thank you, Damian.”

He grunted in reply and she chuckled under her breath, looking out the window closest to her until they pulled up to the Wayne Manor.

Damian stepped out first and Mar’i waited until he opened the door for her before she stepped out, and she smiled and nodded at him before following him up to the manor. The old English architecture has never failed to impress her, standing tall and proud even with the white fading to a beige tone with old age. Ivy climbed around the sides and certain pillars, adding to the old gothic look.

The doors opened automatically with the face recognition technology Damian’s dad had installed years before. They went straight to his room, him having to hold her hand as they walked up the grand staircase to the second floor and to the master bedroom.

Her sweater and leggings were folded neatly on his bed, sneakers neat next to his bed with socks tucked into them. Her backpack was on his desk, books stacked from largest to smallest next to it. Nothing in his room seemed touched, with everything being in its usual place and too neat- she wondered if he ever slept in his room or if there was a pull-out couch in his office, maybe he just crashed at his desk every night after she left.

“You know where the towels are in you want to take a shower, just remember to put them in the basket after you’ve used them.”

He walked to his desk, grabbing a pen and a chequebook and scribbling down the amount of that night while she took off her heels. It was always weird taking off heels, for a few minutes her feet always felt curved and as if she was still walking around in them, so she liked sitting on his bed until the feeling wore off. She placed the heels right next to her sneakers and watched as he walked over to her and held the cheque out to her.

“Here, for tonight.”

“Thank you.” She smiled stiffly. It was always awkward taking it from him. She knew it was a job, he was paying her to accompany here to these events, but she always felt like she was taking too much. He let her keep the dress and shoes if she had really liked them that night, let her get all dolled up before leaving for whatever event it was that night, even let her keep any makeup she liked from the makeup artist if she mentioned it while she was still around.

She’s tried denying the cheque once, but he hadn’t let her leave before taking it and reminded her of the contract that she had signed before they started this whole arrangement. It was a job for her, nothing less and definitely nothing more. But she’s refrained from asking for anything more than the agreed upon money, more than she felt she was worth but enough to pay for a year of university tuition and housing.

He nodded and walked out of his room, off to his office she supposed. It was where she always found him when she arrived in the afternoons, when he messaged her for an event that night just so he knew that she had arrived and he could call the makeup artist, hairdresser and tailor down.

She took her time to take off her dress, fishing out the extra pair of undergarments from her bag and took a quick shower to remove all the wax, makeup and perfume from her. He started keeping expensive makeup removers, face cleansers and other toiletries for her in the bathroom shortly after the arrangement, after the makeup artist chastised him for making her wash her face with just soap and water. She remembered him rolling his eyes, but the next time she was around and finished the night, there were bottles of face cleansers and soaps with diamonds and foreign muds and oils that would cost more than her weekly wage at the florist.

It was always so luxurious, and way more than she could afford, though she could tell that he didn’t really know what he was buying and probably just picked up whatever was the most expensive. She never complained, it was a new cleanser every few months and she always had a choice of whatever she wanted to use for that night. She was a princess for the night and if the event ended early, or the next day was a weekend, she took the time to sit in the bath with a bubble bomb and submerge herself in glitter. She really appreciated how much effort he took to stock his bathroom with all these girly things when he could get the bare minimum.

But she had classes to get to, so her pampering would have to be cut short. She picked up a Guerlain bottle, heavy with a gold cap and all, and removed her makeup as soon as she could. She stepped out of the shower and opened the drawer with the towels, drying herself off and wrapping the towel around her before stepping out of the bathroom altogether. She picked up the dress and shoes, hanging the dress up in a walk-in closet he had dedicated a side for her dressed to, and placed the shoes right under.

She changed into her old clothes, smelling like fresh laundry already, and picked up her backpack, cheque tucked into the pockets on her leggings. She walked to the office next to the bedroom and peaked in, “I’ll be going now.”

He grunted in reply, and she walked out to the garage and got in her car, the only one that was matted from old age amongst all the shiny black ones.

She started it up and drove home, wondering if her roommate would be awake and looking to grill her on her night once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter focused on Mar'i interactions. They will play a part later, 2 - 3 chapters down if my planning goes right. I'll try to update more often, maybe once every week if I can make it but definitely once every other week at least.

_ Everybody's asking  
_

_ What you are to me _

_ Believe me, if I knew then _

_ I would tell  _ _them_

_\- Friends Don't Kiss Friends, Studio Black_

**♚♛**

The feeling of luxury lingered until the morning, with the fresh floral fragrance lingering even after she woke up. Her skin never felt dry after washing her face at his, and it always felt so much smoother and looked brighter than ever. She always felt like it was a shame she couldn’t do this everyday, but she was paying for a dorm room for a reason, and she really didn’t like the idea of staying with him any longer than she had to in that big house. 

She barely noticed her missing roommate as she started her morning routine, showering with cold water because a heater would cost extra and neither of them were interested in paying for that in the summer. Plus, the cold shower helped her wake up in the mornings. 

She stepped out of the shower with a towel still trying to dry her hair, only in her underwear and a pair of mismatched socks. The scent of jasmine tea had faded after a while, though her face still felt hydrated and fresh. She would gladly bet that it looked better than usual as well. 

“So, how was last night? Was he cute?” 

Mar’i jumped when she heard her roommate before seeing her, sat at her bed holding a cup of coffee out to her while sipping on another, a smirk and a cocked brow directed at her the entire time. 

“Iris, you know it was nothing like that.” 

“Yeah right, you can’t expect me to believe that after coming home so late.” 

Mar’i sighed and shook her head, raining down remaining water on the carpet leading to the bathroom. She threw the towel in their shared laundry basket and took the coffee from her roommate, sipping the macchiato and grinning at the caffeine that shot through her body at that moment. It was both lucky and unlucky they both had afternoon classes on Monday. On one hand, she got free coffee Monday mornings but she would also be grilled by these questions if she were gone Sunday night. 

Which was the case now. 

“It really was nothing, just another late cramming session.” 

Iris scoffed, taking another sip from her cup. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“ _ Iris _ .” 

“ _ Mar’i _ .”

She rolled her eyes, the imitation a little too spot on for her to admit. Iris knew her best in college, she was her best friend and honestly, she didn’t expect her to believe her. But she tried and that’s all she could say. 

They finished their coffees at the same time, chucking their cups into their shared waste bin. Iris’ cup flew straight into the bin, knocking Mar'i’s cup away, and she gasped in mock horror. Iris howled with laughter, falling back to her bed and holding her stomach. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. I need to get to class now.” Mar’i slipped her sneakers on and Iris huffed.

“Sure, whatever. Have fun with Professor What’s-His-Face.” 

“You’re lucky your classes don’t start until 3.” 

“ _ Everyday _ ,” Iris smirked and Mar’i rolled her eyes and groaned. Noon classes weren’t bad but Gods, what she wouldn’t do to be able to start even later on Monday. 

“See you later.”

“See ya.” 

Mar’i closed the door behind her, sighing against it. She knew it was just teasing, it always was and Iris was perfectly fine being kept in the dark, but she was getting sick of the questions. 

“Mar’i, how are you?” 

The soft voice of her neighbour always managed to lift her day up though. 

“Lian, it’s been… fine.” 

“Really? I heard some commotion from your room back there,” she giggled lightly and Mar’i smiled back at her, rolling her eyes. 

“Iris was just being annoying again.” 

Lian giggled, wishing her well, and Mar’i couldn’t help but laugh along before going her way. The walk to class was relatively short. She was never late and never wanted to be, but she always settled down at the front seat of the lecture hall anyway, right next to the stairs. Her bag settled under the table, a nice floral-printed one with too many pockets that he had left for her the first few times he called on her, and fished out a textbook and laptop. Project wasn’t due until next month, but she never believed in handing up work last minute, especially with group projects that she’s been talked into carrying on her back.

Slowly, the other students poured in and filled in the back rows. Groups of friends chattered amongst each other, gossips and laughs about how last night’s party went and how one sorority girl got drunk. Even in the front row, steps away from the door, she could hear everything. 

“Since you weren’t at Lightning’s party last night, were you out with your lover again?”

Mar’i spluttered, heat rising from her neck to her cheeks, and jabbed her seatmate in the ribs. 

“Rose, there’s no such thing!”

Rose stuck her tongue out, brushing all of her hair over her shoulder and letting it cascade down the right side of her body. Mar’i rested her head on her hands, elbows on the desk, her emerald eyes zooming into her neck. 

“You had fun with someone last night?”

Mar’i cocked an eyebrow at Rose’s hum, the latter turning to look at her and mirroring her expression with a frown. Mar’i pointed at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, an obvious angry bruise still there while the other smaller ones looked to be fading. 

“Oh.”

“ _ Yeah _ . So tell me the details.”

Rose shrugged while Mar’i leaned in, eager with her lips curled into a sly smile. 

“We met at Lightning’s party, both having drank a bit too much; said he graduated but was one of the frat boys that the rest liked and invited over. We talked a bit, made out in his car then fucked in his apartment.” 

Mar’i always found it hard to get over how candid Rose spoke about her hookups, though she’s never done something like that and supposed she would be the same if she had Rose’s experience.  _ Just another night after all.  _

“He was pretty though. Tall, messy black hair with this weird white streak and the brightest blue eyes. Handsome  _ and _ good in bed, I should introduce the two of you,” Rose gave a wicked smile, lips curled and eyes twinkling with the idea. 

“No thanks, I'm happy with what I have.” Mar’i turned to the front, the teacher clearing his throat announcing his appearance, missing Rose coking her eyebrow.

“Nah, I couldn’t anyway- didn’t even get his name or number. Woke up earlier than him and went off and came here.” 

Mar’i hummed, one ear, listening to Rose while taking in her professor’s words and jotting down as much as she could. For a second, her pen stalled and she turned to Rose.

“You don’t take this class.”

Rose winked at her, “I just miss you.” 

The rest of the class was spent with Rose next to her, texting away on her phone with her thankfully short nails, minimising the sound of her tapping, while she noted everything she could catch. Her professor had released the class earlier than usual, she suspected the professor was a little hungover as well and wondered if the man Rose was with last night was him though she didn’t dare ask. That was a thought she didn’t want to have. 

Rose left after class, almost immediately while adjusting her hair to cascade down both sides of her instead, covering the side littered with love bites. Mar’i missed her chance to ask why, a little curious but left it for the next time Rose finds her. After a few years of vague friendship, Mar’i learned Rose didn’t like to be looked for. 

Strolling to an on-campus cafe, the one on the other end of her classes and thankful for the few hours between each lesson, she thought through last night. She could still feel his fingers on her, pads pressing into the flesh of her hip and how he held her so close. She remembered his breathing, harsh and stiff and soft but not calm, and wondered if he was  _ jealous _ despite how many times she’s been out with him in skin-tight dresses and a heavily made up face, playing the role of the perfect trophy girlfriend. 

After all, why else would he hold her so tightly? 

The bell above the door chimed when she opened it, the cafe empty and quiet but the homely smell of bread and coffee made her feel right at home. She settled down at her usual seat, near the wall at the corner booth under all the hanging glass bottle succulents. 

“Mar’i, it’s so nice to see you again!” 

“Cass-”

“I know your usual don’t worry, just wanted to say hi. Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Mar’i laughed as the blonde bounced back to behind the counter. The smell of hazelnut started to float through the air, along with Cass’ voice as she sung along to the lo-fi pop song playing through the speakers. 

She set up her laptop on the table, ready to start on her project again. A notification popped up at the corner of her screen, a class-wide email informing them of an invited guest down to talk during one of her electives later on in the day. The email cut off right before the name, but Mar’i dismissed it all the same. That elective wasn’t one she wanted to take but it boosted her credit, and her grandfather was more or less good at it- all she needed was to bat her lashes and pout a bit and he’d tell her what she needed to do. 

The next was from Alfred, informing her of a family dinner coming up a few days later. He’d always been really formal, sending emails whenever something important would pop up with elegant ecards and evites and loud noises that used to scare her whenever she opened them. 

Lowering the volume of her laptop, she opened the email and was greeted with a golden box and the details of the family dinner typed in black cursive. Glitter dripped down her screen, and she wondered if he had done it for her, knowing her affinity with anything sparkly. There wasn’t sound this time, and Mar’i knew somewhere in her that he had done it only to scare her the first couple of times. 

“So what’s been going on with you?” 

The blonde set the hazelnut cappuccino and red velvet cake behind her laptop, and Mar’i sighed and took in the sweet smells.

“Nothing much, just studies and stuff, plus a group project I’m doing by myself.” 

“I know that feeling all too well, but you can’t risk that partnership programme huh?” 

“You know it, Cassie.” Mar’i took a sip from the porcelain cup, moaning as the coffee slid down her throat. The warmth was always comforting, like hugs after a bad day or sun after rain. “What about you? How’s things going between you and him?” 

“He’s busy, as always,” Cassie slumped, resting her chin on her palm while playing with the hem of her apron, sitting across Mar’i, “He’s always busy with helping his dad with something or another, the downside of being the geek of the family I guess. But I do miss him.” She blew a raspberry up, watching as her bangs flew with her released breath. 

“At least he calls.” Mar’i reached over, grazing Cassie’s hand with the lightest touch to sooth her. Cassie returned the gesture with a smile and a shrug.

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” Mar’i raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her drink. Cassie cocked an eyebrow back, sly smirk and mischief dancing in her eyes. Mar’i took another sip from her drink, enjoying the heat rushing down her throat, before glancing away from the blonde.

“I’m single, as always.”

“No boy toy?”

“None,” Mar’i scoffed. The thought of him did pop into her mind, but he wasn’t a  _ boyfriend  _ or a  _ boy toy _ or a…  _ anything  _ really. It was a mutually beneficial agreement. The closest thing she’d use to describe him would probably be sugar daddy, but that never sat right with her. There wasn’t supposed to be feelings involved, she tried her best to keep hers out of it whenever around him, but there was a  _ pull  _ between them. 

Just not one they could do much about. Not now. 

She took a bite from the cake next to her, as Cassie hummed and slid away when the bell chimed, signalling another visitor. 

The cafe would start filling up soon, as the time on her laptop told her it was ten more minutes to one. She finished up the cake and her drink, packing her laptop in her bag and squeezing through the wave of students to the exit, and headed off to her next class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on:  
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